


Sent By The Maker

by therobotjay



Series: I Would Give You The Stars [2]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Caretaking, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, I Love Anders (Dragon Age), M/M, Sick Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-18 14:20:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14215050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therobotjay/pseuds/therobotjay
Summary: Hawke has a cold and is being a massive baby about it.





	Sent By The Maker

Hawke was sick. Downright miserable sick. He wanted to blame their recent trek down into the sewers -- that couldn’t be healthy -- but it could’ve just as easily been the accidental dunk in the harbor that he’d taken ( _fucking Isabela_ ) or the questionable meat he’d eaten the day prior ( _fucking Merrill_ ) or even the all-night watch, in the rain, that he’d been suckered into ( _fucking Aveline_ ).

It hardly mattered. He was feverish and his entire body ached and it felt like he was on fire (and not in the fun way). His face felt like it was full of bees, clogging up his head and buzzing and angry.

“It’s just a cold,” Anders said, trying and failing to keep the amusement out of his voice.

Hawke’s eyes narrowed. He opened his mouth to tell his boyfriend that this was _not_ just a cold but instead he just ended up having a coughing fit.

Anders waited patiently until Hawke could breathe before handing him a cup of...something. “Here, drink up. This will help.”

Hawke took a sip of the liquid and ramped his glare up several notches. “This tastes awful,” he grumbled.

“It’s medicine. It’s not supposed to taste good,” the healer replied with a laugh.

“Can’t you just…” Hawke wiggled his fingers irritably, already knowing the answer. He’d already tried to heal himself. Healing magic worked great for injuries but didn’t seem to be arsed over a common cold. It had gotten rid of the headache, at least. That was something.

Anders gave him that _you’re being an idiot_ look, the one that he didn’t tolerate from many people but somehow, from Anders, made him feel warm and loved.

Hawke tossed the rest of the herbal concoction back like he was taking a shot of liquor, let out a loud, over-dramatic whine, then threw himself back onto his pillows. He tugged his blanket up over the bottom half of his face and pouted.

“You are such a baby when you’re sick,” Anders said lovingly. He leaned in and kissed Hawke on the forehead, pushing the other man’s sweat-damp, coppery hair out of the way. “You’re lucky that I love you. Now get some rest, I’ll be right here.”

Still smiling, the healer sat in the chair next to the bed and pulled his journal onto his lap. With it unsteadily balanced on his knees, he began to write, a look of concentration turning his features serious.

Hawke curled onto his side. He could feel the medicine starting to work its way through his body, making him feel floaty and pleasant and sleepy. His vision blurred a bit, making the light reflecting off of Anders’ sandy hair into a golden halo.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. In my entire life.” Hawke tried to speak clearly but his words were a little sleepy too. “A vision. Sent by the Maker. To...to show all of us...the rest of the people...what beauty really is…”

Anders’ cheeks pinkened. “That’s the medicine talking, love,” he said softly.

“It’s not. It’s…” Hawke blinked slowly, fighting to stay awake, to keep watching his treasure while he wrote. “Maker, you’re so lovely. Just so…” He trailed off, yawning.

“I love you too,” Anders nearly whispered, leaning over to tuck the blanket around Hawke’s shoulders and check his temperature with the back of one hand. “You giant baby.”


End file.
